Ana Molly
by itzarazorblade
Summary: Harry remembers his rapid decline, and what got him where he is now. WARNINGS: eating disorders, dysfunctional relationships.
1. Chapter 1

Harry remembers growing up with the Dursley's. he remembers the physical abuse, the scars that faded over time, the ones that never really managed to fade completely, physical and otherwise, inflicted on him or his aunt. But most of all, above the harsh words about his dead parents. Above the ache to be loved and needed. He remembered the rejection. The hypercriticism. The looks of complete and utter disgust. And the repetative cooking of large quantities of food. Never to be consumed by him.

As a boy, he ate whatever was left over form what HE had cooked for THEM. It was always enough to keep him alive. Never very well nourished or entirely strong, but alive none-the-less.

He remembered the first time he went to the Weasley's and was stuffed full of all kinds of foods he didn't really want to eat, remembering the way Dudley would look with food on his face, in his face. Butter and meat everywhere. He remembered having to lie there in bed night after night. Unhappy with himself, and unable to punish himself with the stabbing hungry feeling that was once so easily attainable.

At first, it was a set of crunches. An upset stomach at lunch preceded by it being 'too early' in the morning to eat anything like _bacon._ Then into his 2nd year it turned into extra quiditch practice. Sit ups and jumping jacks for the sake of his seeking abilities. He was ok with mainting. As long as he didn't gain.

Then, into his 6th year, there was one particular day after a game between Slytherin and Gryffindor. One terribly fateful game. Harry had hung around and waited for the crowd to die out. All the people had left except for a few players here and there getting some extra practice in after an already very difficult game. To Harry it was a bit more than just practice. It was the tea with sugar and milk from earlier that morning. The orange. The piece of toast with margarine on it. The imperfection. Melting off of him with every drop of sweat and every pump of his heart and every ragged breath. He wanted to be muscular, fit, lean

As he ran his 5th lap around the field, a streak of white and green zipped past him, pressure being applied to his shoulder as he tumbled to the ground. A wicked snicker quickly followed by it.

He looked up to see the lithe, pale, blonde hovering over him. Quiditch robes open and cackling at the boy on the ground. He ran his eyes down his face, sharp and defined. Down his neck, which jutted out for his Adam's Apple and sunk back in to meet at a spoon shape in between his collar bones which he traced with his eyes all the way to the tops of the pale boys shoulders where they connected. His sternum was visible, and his ribs had that muscled-over look to them. They dipped in ever so slightly to show his flat abdomin. Not muscular, or defined like Harry's. But smooth, and flat, and everything was so sharp and aerodynamic. He was beautiful.

After that quiditch practice, he stopped Draco in the lockers and shoved him into it as hard as he could. The boy had begun putting his robes back on and it made him angry.

He was mad that he had seen the boy eating that same day and that he wasn't buldging everywhere. He wasn't like Harry.

"Don't be sore just because I got one up on you while you were running." Malfoy sneered.

Harry reached out and fisted Draco's robes. The blonde looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow, grabbing one of Harry's hands and opening his mouth to say something as Harry ripped the clothes open, roughly jerking them off of Draco's shoulders and staring at the shocked blonde.

"What in God's name do you think you're DOING?" he asked indignantly as he bent over to pick up his robes, abruptly stopped by rough hands shoving his shoulders back and slamming his head into a metal locker. He grunted as Harry's mouth smashed into his and he knew his lips would be bruised the next day, he could've sworn he tasted blood as Harry placed such strong suction over his slightly opened mouth.

Draco dug his nails into Harry's biceps and opened his mouth wide for Harry.

He moved to slip his hands under Harry's shirt, which earned him getting his wrists pinned above his head and Harry growled,

"Don't touch me" into his mouth. Harry licked along Draco's collar bone and the blonde moaned and jumped to wrap his legs around Harry's hips, his entire weight being held up between their bodies.

"Like I'd want to" he said with a scoff.

Harry looked at him darkly before shoving his hand down the front of Draco's quiditch pants.


	2. Chapter 2

He knew, the very day, a few weeks after his odd session with Draco, when he ran a hand down his own, clearly well toned body, and felt nothing but bumps and buldges and fat and things that weren't bones.

He knew that day he couldn't build anymore muscle, that if he was going to do that he'd have to cut out protein.

No meat for him. No more carbs, no more sugars, veggetables and water.

There were more random encounters with the blonde, he was never allowed to touch Harry, never allowed to undress him, or see him in anything less than two layers of clothes. Many after quiditch games, but after that season ended, it went out into the school grounds. He'd take out the map and search for Malfoy and dart out to see him everytime he felt hungry, or weak. He'd strip him down and place his fingers inbetween the blondes ribs and nip his hip bones. Anything to make himself feel worse about himself and lose his hunger. Lose his weakness as he made that perfect pale form jerk and those thin lips go slack as he came, arms pinned above his head and thrusting into Harry's hands. All the while he was being insulted and cut down.

"You're hands are rough. Why can't I see you? You're a coward. I don't really want to see you, who would."

And Harry would be mumbling to Draco, "You're gorgeous, you're fucking perfect, come for me, scream."

Harry couldn't remember when he started becoming afraid of food. He knew he was adverse to too much of it, and he knew that during the year he could exercise and eat and maintain a weight and then drop some more during the summer when he was forced to return to the Dursley's. He couldn't remember the day he looked in the mirror and saw mass instead of muscle. Thank god the war finally came. He ran and ran and ran and ate next to nothing and was dizzy and woozy and light and high.

The war ended.

Just as it had begun, randomly one day, the war stopped. Harry had won. Everyone was so pleased. They're big strong hero had saved the day.

So why didn't he feel like their hero?

The action, the drama, the fear, it was all gone. Or was it? He was creating all he needed for himself. A little whirlwind of devistation. Made just for him and those he held closest.

He remembered the first time Draco had gotten truly desperate,

"Fuck me" he groaned.

Harry sucked on the nape of his neck as he ground their hips together.

"No"

"Why not? Am I not good enough for you" Draco laughed.

They were in Harry's living room after a party celebrating the light's win had drawn Draco there.

By this point, his hair had gotten dry and thin. Much like his skin. He barely ever peed anymore. The simple movement of thrusting into Draco as they were was making him black out a little.

All of his friends passed it off as stress and their dire conditions in the wild while on the run. He knew he was too small. At least that's what people told him. They were either jealous because they ALL had become fat right before his eyes after 6th year, or they were lying because his means of losing weight were not to their liking. He was about 6'0 and 100 pounds. His bones protruded more than anything, anything that is, except his fat.

"I'm disgusting."

"You're very thin, Potter. If you ate something you wouldn't be 'disgusting' as you put it."  
"I'm disgusting because I'm FAT Malfoy. Not that you'd have to worry about that. You're the only person I know who's thin."

Draco pulled a hand out from under Harry's grasp above his head.

"You've got a problem Potter, and after 2 years I think I deserve to see you."

"no"


	3. Chapter 3

There was a brief struggle, but in the end, Draco was a healthy, well nourished individual. And that was not something Harry was any longer.

He charmed Harry's hands above him, just like he had been for two years, and his feet down and spread.

He was growling and screaming and cursing. Flailing and threatening all sorts of horrible things on him if the blonde didn't remove himself.

Draco dutifully ignored him, using spells to slice right through his two shirts and jacket.

"STOP IT" Harry screeched, hyperventilating.

Draco leaned down, pressing his bare chest to Harry's and cupping the side of the crying boys face. Luckily, Draco himself was still wearing pants, or this might be odd.

"Shhhhh. Stop, now. You're so small..Harry." Draco whispered as he touched his lips down Harry's neck.

"Stop" Harry mumbled, exhausted and hoarse from screaming and crying and in general throwing a fit.

His breaths came short and quick.

"Dra...pressure...my chest...you're heavy...I can't breathe, Draco" Harry panted, eyes wide.

Draco just shook his head, lips trailing down the boy's throat. He ran finger tips down the boys chest, fingers bumping over every rib, every barely-there muscle, anything but fat.

Harry whined. Clearly he was not particularly used to being touched.

"Stop" he begged as his flailing slowed to an almost complete still.

"What's so bad about you, Potter?" Draco mumbled as he licked up the center of Harry's chest.

"What's so bad about this? Is it that I'm in control? Wha-" Draco paused as he looked down at the boy, in proportion to his entire body, instead of just focussing on one area, up close, at a time.

He was... translucent.

His skin was thin and a kind of olivey colour, nowhere near his former sun worn tan. Every bone in his sternum was prominent; his collar bone didn't quite show all the way up to the tips of his shoulders, as Draco's did, although, this did not detract from his severe emaciation. If anything, it was probably because his arms were above his head. Draco looked farther down, taking in the boy's arms which were almost completely muscle-less bones. He carefully analyzed Harry's stomach which, where Draco's would trail into muscles and a toned pelvis that dipped slightly down between his hip bones, led straight into the peaks of his hips, which appeared to be triangles under his skin. Little bruises on the tips of those triangles caused Draco to be extremely afraid of leaning on the frail boy so greatly. He cringed, thinking of how painful his own, light weight, must feel on the lithe boy and pulled back.

"I'm Disgusting." Harry mumbled, head turned and eyes squeezed shut as tears leaked out.

"I'm bloody obese, how can you look at me? You're PERFECT." He spat out the last word, much like it was something fattening that would ruin him.

Draco just sat and stared at Harry's face. What was it that the boy got to see in the mirror?

"You're...Well... you look like you're going to be crushed if I put all my weight on you... you look dying...dead. I...God... Harry"

How did he fail to notice this all this time?

Harry did always wear layers and jackets, and looking at him Draco realised it must be because he can't keep in his body heat. He never got to touch him. Draco always assumed it was just a severe kink of Harry's. To have him tied up and writhing, completely out of control of his environment and his situation.

He leaned down, hovering his lips over Harry's.

"When's the last time you ate something." He mumbled into the boy's mouth. Harry tried to press his thighs together, clearly becoming uncomfortable, and whimpered.

"It's not your problem, don't worry about it, I'm fine."

"Is there even food in this house?" Draco asked as he traced a hand up Harry's bound arm, scraping his nails all the way up, lightly.

Harry's lack of an answer led Draco to gently press their lips together and suck slightly, pulling back and running his cheek along Harry's.

"Potter?"

Harry shivered.

"There is... For when I binge..." Draco ran a hand palm flat down Harry's torso and the boy groaned.

"This is hurting my back" Harry stuttered out breathily.

"If I let you go, are you going to hit me or run away?" Draco whispered into the side of Harry's neck.

Harry tipped his hips upward,  
"nononono I won't I promise" Draco had stopped to finger at Harry's ribs, attempting to get acclimated to the feeling of such severe sharpness under such tight skin.

"Just... I mean... you're not disgusted by me?"

Draco shook his head no, hair tickling Harry's neck.

"It scares me, how frail you look... I won't let you get any smaller." He trailed kisses down Harry's neck and ran a hand down his side, the bumping over Harry's ribs still amazing him.

"How can you say that" Harry gasped as he felt a tongue swipe up his neck.

"You're so much smaller than I am..."

Harry looked into Draco's eyes as he pulled back and touched their noses together.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to confide in the boy, but he almost felt like he had to.

Harry whimpered and leaned his head on Draco's shoulder,

"I'm sick, don't tell anyone..."

Three months, hundreds of arguments, hours standing in front of a mirror with Draco behind him, and several instances of Draco breaking in bathroom doors to prevent Harry from vomiting back up whatever he finally managed to convince him to eat later, and Draco thought they made progress. Maybe, possibly, hopefully, he seemed to eat periodically on his own now. Harry ignored the nagging thing in the back of his mind every couple days and would eat a whole meal, then a meal and some snacks. Food, when he was hungry, instead of drinks and exercise. All of the stabbing pain in his stomach, the dizziness, the nausea, the headaches, the tremors. Harry got tired of it. After all, it wasn't making HIM happy, it wasn't for HIM. And Draco would love him no matter what, right? He would still love him even while Harry was throwing all of the worried boys hard work and consideration back in his face, right? Even if he ignored the pain he was causing Draco for his own selfish "happiness"? One particularly sneaky day Harry realised, years after school, he was becoming quite the Slytherin.

His favourite thing about trying to live up to Draco's idea of "healthy" and make the blonde happy was the trip to the muggle doctor that Draco actually insisted on him seeing. Upon arriving and having blood work done, having said doctor turn and tell him that his blood work stated that he was going through refeeding syndrome. The very thing that Draco found to be "healthy" was making him so very ill and threatening his life. Really, Harry knew Draco, and everyone else's idea of "health", was just putting stress on his heart and making him fat. Thinking back on it, he really hated that part.

Draco flung the door open that Harry no longer bothered to lock, it was too bothersome to fix every time Draco broke it. Reaching down and ripping one of Harry's shoulders back, digging his nails in and slamming the boy into the bathroom wall and onto his ass from the kneeling position he was so used to in front of the toilet.

Harry yelped as is back slammed into the hard tile and coughed a bit, rubbing the tears out of his eyes and bracing himself as the room swerved and dodged as his sanctuary of weight loss and reality attempted to merge.

"What in god's name do you think you're doing?"

Harry coughed again and groaned as the room continued to swivel around him.

He looked up at Draco, blurry eyed and shivering. Once, twice, three times, he attempted to raise his left arm to grab Draco when the pressure of an elephant standing on his chest slammed into him. Kind of like just his torso had decided to apparate somewhere. He gasped and grabbed his left arm with his right hand while he was stabbed by invisible knives. Draco dropped to his knees, grabbing Harry's shoulders and shaking him.

"Are you ok? Harry? Did I hurt you...oh god. Harry? Answer me!"

A few years, illness, emaciation, no arguments, 12 relapses, and more doctors' appointments than anyone should ever have later; Harry sat on the well padded couch that they had to buy years ago so that he could actually sit on it with Draco comfortably leaning against his chest.

There wasn't any stabbing or shuffling to try and find a comfortable spot. No secrecy. No layers of clothes as he sat in their air conditioned flat. No shaking. No numb limbs because Draco was putting light pressure on one of his thighs.

He nuzzled the side of the blondes head as he stirred in his sleep. Draco jerked and pushed away from Harry, almost sitting up and looking at him panic stricken,

"What? Are you ok...Do you need...something? Want me to get food?" Draco slowed his speech, looking around.

Harry smiled at him,

"No"

He pulled Draco back down, wrapping his arms around him and reveling in how well they both fit, mentally and physically while healthy.

"I'm..."

Harry squeezed Draco a little tighter and the blonde pressed his face into Harry's neck, already drifting back off.

"Fine. Go back to sleep. You were having a bad dream."

"Alright...I love you."

Harry kissed his temple,

"I know."


End file.
